An Astronaut’s Guide to Life
On Earth
Chris Hadfield
When I was about five years-old, I found out that there are
no such things as martians. In a moment of fantastic child-logic, I decided that
the entirety of space must also have been a cruel adult lie. When, at the age of
six, a teacher asked us what we knew about Mars I felt very grown up. I put my
hand up and declaimed proudly: “It doesn’t exist, Miss”.
My teacher thought that I had been raised as part of a cult.
As a child, you come to doubt everything that seems
fantastic. Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy, aliens, talking animals, magic…
all the things you implicitly believe in during infancy. It’s not your fault –
these things are sold to you through a potent mixture of fairy tales, Disney
and outright lies masquerading as traditions. Then, someone tells you that none
of it is true.
Space, then, comes as a wonderful anomaly. Especially if you somehow came to doubt
its existence in the first place. A boundless, unknowable realm of shooting
stars and zero gravity…. that exists?!
But Bernard and his stupid watch don’t
exist?! AMAZING!
Bloody waste of magic
When I was ten, I was still fascinated by space. The very
fact of its existence neither ruled nor regulated by humans struck me as
incredible. Surely, if people had landed on the moon, they must now be doing so
on an almost daily basis? I asked my parents. Nope. Turns out 12 people in
total had (and still have) been to the moon, the last one 15 years before my
birth. What a waste. I stopped looking up quite as much.
Herein lies one of the many differences between myself and
Major Chris Hadfield. At 9 years-old, Hadfield – along with the vast majority
of the world’s population – watched transfixed as man took his first tentative
steps on alien soil.
From that moment on, Hadfield knew he would dedicate his
life to becoming an astronaut.
Back to early 1990s London. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so
quick to dismiss space exploration if I had been aware that, instead of sending
mission after mission up to the moon, NASA and Roscosmos (their jovially named Russian
counterparts) had been busy building and expanding the Shuttle program, Mir and
the International Space Station – all with the aim of testing the limits of
human capability and endurance in (understatement alert) inhospitable
environments. Sadly, in my life, a brief but lively infatuation with Boyzone and the
phenomenon known as ‘hair-mascara’ took over.
Excellent for that 'dipped head in Dulux' effect
Instead of taking this reviewer’s route of interested
defeatism, Hadfield dedicated his life and career to helping us understand that
little bit more, and taking us one step closer to long-term colonisation of the
stars. As a small boy growing up in a country with no space-programme or stated
interest in space-exploration, his determination and success must be seen as
nothing short of astonishing.
"Fortunately, we now have an interest in Space!"
That he wrote a book about it is even more miraculous. Commander
Hadfield thumped back to Earth for the final time on the 12th of May
2013. On the 1st of October 2013, a proof copy of his book, An Astronaut’s Guide to Life On Earth, landed
on my lap. That’s a total writing time of under five months. Five months,
disregarding the period shortly after his return during which his spine was recompressing back to usual
size and he was in no fit state to drive, let alone write an interesting, witty
and inspiring memoir. Five months. It’s taken me three days to get over
sinusitis. And you bet I’ve used that as an excuse to watch TV instead of
cracking on with this review.
Eyebrows... stinging. *cough* tell.. family... I love them...
What I hope the reader has gathered so far, amidst my
waffling and badly-disguised jealousy, is that Hadfield’s book leaves us in no
doubt as to his phenomenal drive and self-control. Every chapter sees him learn a new talent,
push himself further, drive himself to be a more rounded individual. Most
astronauts, he casually states, must have a rudimentary knowledge of surgery.
You know… just in case.
Average member of public asked to 'pick up a bit of surgery'
Surgery. The man
is already an astronaut/fighter pilot/scientist/Youtube sensation! How many
more strings can one man add to his bow? What does his bow even look like by
now, a harp? Because, oh yes, he’s also a pretty good
writer. Without being dull, the Commander manages to speak in plain,
unpretentious terms about his experiences.
When he does allow himself some
flowery language, e.g.: to talk about his 2 EVAs (space-walks, to you and I), the
sudden change in tone makes his descriptions all the more beautiful:
“…I check behind me,
to be sure I haven’t accidentally activated my backup tank of oxygen, and that’s
when I notice the universe. … Imagine you’re in your living room, intently
reading a book, and then you look up casually and you’re face to face with a
tiger. No warning, no sound or smell, just suddenly, that feral presence. … The
black velvet bucket of space, brimming with stars. It’s vast and overwhelming,
this visual immersion, and I could drink it in forever.”
He also writes extremely movingly about how he faces up to
the very real possibility of death. The NASA team run ‘sims’ (simulations),
questioning and analysing how each person involved in a mission would deal with
any given scenario. Potential death is not excluded from this. Hadfield recalls
a sim where he and his wife sat there, calmly analysing how his death should be
announced to his next of kin and to the media.
That’s… pretty heavy. But, as with all the challenges in an
astronaut’s life, absolutely vital. When the Columbia disaster occurred in
February 2003, the shuttle disintegrating on re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere,
Hadfield personally knew every astronaut in that mission. The commander, Rick
Husband, had been a close family friend. Although the sims could never prepare
anyone for the personal grief and trauma inflicted by the disaster, at least
they could prepare one to go through the motions of damage-limitation, running
on automatic.
Here it is necessary to make like a news anchor and
introduce an awkward segue.
For although Hadfield
does not make light of the dangers and discomforts inherent in his work, neither
does he eclipse the lighter moments with false gravitas. My personal favourite
sections of the book are those moments when Hadfield discusses rituals and
superstitions. And, my gosh, are there a lot of them, culminating in the
extremely odd visual of a Russian Orthodox priest liberally dousing every
out-going astronaut head to toe in holy water, moments before they climb into
the ship.
"As it says in the Bible, I say unto you: WATER FIGHT!"
When asked what proportion of astronauts are religious/atheist/other,
Hadfield says that they run the gamut from die hard atheist to devout believer,
with each taking from the space experience a renewed faith in their personal
convictions. Somehow, somewhere, I’d like to imagine that Richard Dawkins is reading
those passages, biting his knuckles and screaming…
“BUT IT’S JUST NOT SCIENTIFIC!!!”
That would… please me….
Other lighter-hearted moments of life in space are well
documented on Hadfield’s Youtube channel as part of his social media drive to
re-ignite public interest in space exploration. Take this PSA on how to cook
spinach, space-style.
nom indeed
Other videos tackle puke, toothbrushing, and a microphone
which seems determined to drift
slowly but surely into Hadfield’s face. Most famous of all, however, is the
music video Hadfield created covering Space
Oddity. In space. (Please note: in the book, Hadfield criticises his
photography skills. Bear that in mind as earth looms into shot behind him, then
think about that next time you take a
selfie).
It’s just brilliant viewing, and an inspired method of
re-invigorating humanity’s interest in all things space.
This, ultimately,
appears to be Commander Hadfield’s goal in life – to encourage others to see
space in the same way that he does, as a fascinating environment which must be
explored. An Astronaut’s Guide to Life On
Earth is a compelling insight into his life, and an important tool in
achieving that goal.
He is not alone. On the day that the Mayans predicted the
world would end, Chris Hadfield was on his way to the ISS. In comparison, I was
at the Hammersmith Apollo, watching the great and the good of Science and
Comedy put on an evening of scientific wonders. A scientist (whose name,
embarrassingly, I have completely forgotten) came onto the stage. He announced
that, after the NASA shuttles were retired from service, he had acquired video
footage of all of their missions. After hours of painstaking work, he spliced
together footage from every single one, including the disasters of Challenger in 1986 and Columbia in 2003. The edited footage was
played, accompanied by an astonishing soundtrack composed especially and played
live by ‘Sheffield’s loudest band’ 65daysofstatic.
The experience of reading Commander Chris Hadfield’s book
was not unlike the experience of watching the stage that night. Exhilerating,
exciting, motivating, and leaving one with the distinct impression that we as a
species, with the technology and experience at our fingertips, have a duty to
continue to push the boundries of space exploration. It challenges us
spiritually, physically, scientifically, and demands a level of international
cooperation vital to our continued existence.
